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I don't know if what my brother did to me can be classified as sexual abuse. I was staying over at his house. It was late at night, and we were watching a movie. At some point, he asked if he could initiate some cuddling. I actually agreed, since we are really close and both enjoy physical affection. While we were spooning, he snuck his hand under my shirt. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything. As the night went on, he alternated between different caresses, kisses on my head or the side of my face, and words of affection. I idly stroked his arm back because I felt awkward just lying there. He eventually asked "is this okay?" in reference to his hand inching up my stomach. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt and still thought the action was platonic, plus it felt nice, plus I am a timid person and have a hard time with confrontation, so my brain thinks saying "no" to people is provoking them, so I said "yes". I didn't really want to say it I, though. I don't think I wanted to say "no", wither. I don't think I wanted to say anything at all. I was tired. We both were. His caresses smoothly progressed to the point he was caressing the underside of my breasts. That's when I started really questioning his intentions. He asked "is this okay?" again. I said "yes" again. When the movie ended, I got scared. I had been using it to distract myself from what was happening, and I was afraid that now that there was no distraction, he would shift his whole attention to me and try to initiate something; so I sat up. He lightly squeezed the underside of my breast as I did so, maybe on purpose, or maybe as a reflex. When he realized I was genuinely pulling away, he took back his hands, said: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep", and got up to take a shower. I think that's the moment I started freaking out. It's what confirmed my suspicions that his touches really had sexual intent behind them. I had been trying to gaslight myself into believing they were innocent affection, but those words were forcing me to face the reality of my situation. I remember running my mouth non-stop about random topics when we were having breakfast because I was afraid he was going to bring up what just happened and would want to have a conversation about it. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to pretend it never happened. I still try to. But it haunts me. He and his wife (who had been sleeping peacefully in their bedroom through the whole night) left early in the morning for their honeymoon (I was there to house-sit, and had come the night before to hang out with them before they left). Once I was alone, I quietly went to their bed to sleep (with their permission and insistance, since there were no other beds in the apartment). As I tried to fall asleep, I still could feel his hands on me, like a phantom touch. I broke down right there. I felt guilty, and disgusting, for not having stopped it and for having enjoyed it too. I felt like maybe I was the creep, and maybe I was the one turning this interaction into something inappropriate. The following weeks, I tried to suppress my feelings. Some days before Christmas, I was on a plane with my mother, about to start our holiday vacation. I was close to my period and my breasts felt sensitive. That triggered something in me and I suddenly teared up right there, in public. That vague ache reminded me of the feeling of that one squeeze he gave to my breast. My mother noticed me about to cry, but I lied and said that's just because I'm close to my period and feeling gloomy (I had been struggling with depression for a while, which she knew.) During the trip, I would get random flashbacks to that night, sometimes even accompanied with feelings of nausea. I felt like I was making my brain overreact somehow, since I hadn't been raped and I shouldn't be traumatized for touching that can barely even be considered intimate. When we got back home, I did something I'm not sure whether I regret it: I talked to him about it. I sent him a long text (he lives in another city, which actually made me feel safer about confronting him) which I barely remember anything about, except that it mentioned "that night" and how I had been upset by it. I broke down while typing it, and it probably wasn't very coherent. My brother sent me many short replies in quick bursts when he saw it. He apologized profusely. He said "I don't know what's wrong with me", "I'll get psychological help", alongside many things I don't remember. That had me freaking out a bit. What did he need psychological help for? Was he admitting he's got urges he can't control? But I didn't say anything related to that. I was afraid of accusing him, and I made sure to clarify I was also to blame for not setting down any boundaries. We were both replying to each other without thinking. We were panicking, and full of adrenaline. I was scared of losing him. He was the only connection I had in the city we both lived in (very far from our hometown, where our parents and my friends all live). I didn't want to upset him, because he's a very sensitive person and I already felt guilty for how I was reacting to it. We somewhat resolved the issue over text. Except we didn't. At all. I pretended we did, but I was still plagued by doubts and paranoia. More than the touching, what haunted me were his words: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep." They shook me to my core. All I had wanted was to be in denial about what happened, but those words wouldn't let me. The story goes on to this day, but I don't want to write too much about the aftermath of "that night", since I'd be writing for too long and I want to focus on whether it was an instance of abuse. At this point, I feel a little more grounded and able to accept that what happened had sexual undertones. I am still full of shame and guilt. I did consent to some of the touching. I'm not certain I wanted to, but it is something I did. That would usually make me think this is a consensual encounter and that I simply regret it now, but there are many factors that also contribute to my belief that this could potentially be an instance of abuse too. First of all, my brother was 38 at the time. I was 20, which yes, is an adult, but still; he is my much older brother. He was already nearly an adult by the time I was born. He's been a figure of authority my whole life, even though he likes to pretend he's not. He's a little clueless when it comes to what's appropriate or not in social contexts, but I do think someone his age should know better than to sneak his hand under his little sister's shirt and go up her body so much his fingers actually brush against her areola. Secondly, I am neurodivergent, though I hadn't told him at the time. However, when I did tell him, he said he already had suspicions. Regardless of that, I've always been quiet and withdrawn, so it upsets that he initiated touching under the guise of innocent affection and then expected me to be able to express my discomfort when it escalated without him specifying it was going to. I don't think his form of seeking consent was productive at all either. He only asked me if two specific touches were okay, and only after starting to do them. He didn't ask for explicit permission for anything but the cuddling at the start. What I want to say is that I was vulnerable. I am young, inexperienced, autistic, and he has always been an emotional support and almost parental figure to me. I don't know how he can be so naive as to think he doesn't have any power over me. Maybe he does know that, but wasn't thinking at the time. I still don't get why he would touch me like that. I find a little solace in thinking that maybe I didn't have any control over it after all. But I don't know. Maybe I did. I am an adult after all. And I do believe he would have stopped if I had told him to. But I definitely never gave any enthusiastic consent. I feel betrayed. I feel lost. I feel angry. I feel sad. I've been avoiding thinking about it for months. Tonight, it all came back to me once more and I broke down again. I truly don't know what to do. I don't want to tell anyone close to me what happened because I am ashamed. I certainly don't want to tell my parents. I kind of want to cut ties with him, but at the same time I don't because I truly believe he is remorseful about it and I don't want to make him sad. I can't help being naive. I don't know if that's comforting, or embarrassing.

A friend and I dated within the same friend group, and I used to hang out with the guys a lot--I considered them as my brothers. One night when we were altogether, I felt too drunk to take myself home and felt safe with my friends ex to get a cab and drop me off. He came in uninvited and kissed me, then all I remember are flashes of us being naked, him being inside of me, going down on me, etc., but I felt like I couldn't move. I woke up to shower, my bed was broken, and he was gone. I called him the next day to confront him about it, and that I don't even remember what happened. He said he thought "i enjoyed it" (I was unconscious half of the time), and only stopped because the bed broke. Although he apologized he had the audacity to tell me not to share this with anyone, and to this day only very few close friends know about this incident. It truly broke my trust even with platonic guy friendships.

Hello! I don't know how to go about this at all, but I know I need to put it out there. I am a lesbian over 21 years of age, and I experienced rape and sexual assault by my last lesbian partner. I apologize if this is long, but if anyone reads this, it's greatly appreciated! I met my ex last January, and we texted for about a month before we had our first date. the first date went well, nothing concerning. The second date, which was 2-3 days after our first one, was where it all started. I didn't mind that she kissed me first, but I got nervous when she told me she wanted to take it to the backseat. She started to grope me and to palm me through my clothing before eventually trying to get her hand in my jeans. I stopped her and told her I wasn't comfortable doing any of that yet. Her response was "Oh, but eventually you will want to, right?" and to that I said "yes, but not right now." She continued anyway. That's the moment I look back on and wish I had left. I stayed. Maybe a date or two pass without her doing anything concerning again before there's another incident. We are in her car outside her workplace for an event we chose to go to. There are people on the street. She starts making out with me, to which I feel icky about bc people can probably see us and it's not appropriate. This time she starts to palm me through my skirt again, and at this point I kind of don't remember much other than me saying that I was scared and nervous, and it doesn't seem safe, and her coercing me. Before I know it, she has her hand down my underwear and is raping me. we didn't go to the event. we left and she told me next time she could find a secluded place. she never did. and that's where it all started. over the next 5 months she would rape me in her car every single chance she could. every single time I told her I wasn't comfortable. I would wear tight underwear, but she would still do everything to do it. if she didn't, she would get mad and stonewall me. but there was never once where it wasn't attempted. the worst night was maybe a month after it all started. again, in her backseat. it was in a fairly public parking lot, she tried to cover the windows with clothes, but it was still obviously visible. she made me lay down and take off all my bottoms and completely spread open. it was so humiliating. she then proceeded to violently rape me so bad and painful I was crying and holding on my screams bc I didn't want to bring attention to the situation or possibly get in trouble. I told her I was comfortable and that I wanted to scream but she just threw a cloth over my face so I wouldn't focus on it. after I had to put my clothes back on and I ruined them. I was in pain for maybe up to a weel after or a bit more. now I wish I had gotten evidence of that night, but I have none. In total I think it happened around 14 times. the same care situations in public that I hated. during the relationship I was blinded to an extent, and I didn't realize it counted as rape until after we broke up. At first, I had accepted what happened but now I have a new partner. my new partner coincidentally works with my rapist ex. ever since finding that out I feel completely distraught and suffocated by what she did to me. Not only that. before finding out they worked together they sat next to each other and were becoming friends. so my ex told my current gf how I am a terrible person and that she's afraid of me. they don't speak anymore. I don't know I just feel suffocated by it all. she also has a new gf. I wish I could tell her new gf to be careful, but I'm scared. in my community there's so much stigma around rape and homosexuality. I don't think I could ever safely publicly come out with my story as much as I want to. she completely changed my life. it's like I don't know how to be myself anymore and I feel like I'm going insane.

At the age of twenty-six I was raped by a stranger. It took me many years to name what had happened to me as rape. Although, distressed when it happened, I blocked it from my mind for a number of years before going to a therapist for support. I decided to attend therapy as I was struggling with a deep depression. I didn't attend a Rape Crisis Centre. It took me a number of years before I disclosed to my then therapist that I had been raped. I had buried what took place deep within myself and I had never disclosed to anyone what happened that night. The person who raped me was a friend of some friends of mine. I was away for the weekend and thankfully, I never saw him again. While my healing journey has been long. It has been deeply supportive and has allowed me to heal from many different issues within my childhood and to heal from sexual violence. I no longer carry guilt or shame for what took place that night and would encourage any man or woman who is a survivor or sexual violence to go to a therapist who specialises in sexual violence and allow an experienced professional to support you on your healing journey. I have no regrets and am grateful to a number of wonderful women who have supported me to heal from a deeply traumatic experience. Healing can and does happen. Don't give up on you, as I have never given up on me. I have learned that I like so many survivors of abuse am a very resilient woman. I live life today, from a very grounded place and although, I remember what happened to me in the rape I have emotionally healed from the hurt and the pain of that traumatic experience.

I went out with friends but left early as I was drunk and tired and I asked someone for directions to find my Uber when another guy asked if I was going to uni and said I was pretty which was fine but he then asked if he could have a kiss. I didn't know what to do so I stepped towards him and then he put his arm round me and I felt like I had to kiss him but I didn't want to. I tried to face away from him hoping he would just kiss my cheek but he didn't so I turned my head and he kissed me and I feel gross and want to throw up every time I think of it.

This is not easy and I am now sure more than ever that others felt the same way. While you can feel you are in it alone there are so many many many stories that are the same. I was at such a tender age. Innocent and blameless. I never knew that i was being taken for granted by the very person who said they love me. They were my family member. Little did I know i would continue to move forward in my life in a manner that only God could heal. Now I sit hear as a full grown adult after going through emotional, physical, psychological abuse by so many that claims to love me. I continued to protect them all because I never told my side of the story. It all ends today. No one else gets to take advantage of my weakness. I was in a long time relationship that started as your typical relationship just beautiful. All of the nice things occurred flowers, candy, gifts. As time went on and things were more settled the take over begun. The insecurities continued to grow and grow. Around year 2 is when the physical abuse started. He had me right where he wanted me. My family tried to intervene but I thought I was in LOVE. Yea I said that 4 letter word that can cause so much pain. Yes I stayed and that was the end to most of my relationships with my family. The relationship with he and I would span another 10 years before the END was the END. I tell you it was not easy at all. One thing I did learn is that most people that should be for you will call you all kind of names stupid, dumb, etc. so much so until you start to believe it. Never give up on yourself.

In March, I met someone. By summer, we were friends—the kind that share meals and watch anime on weekends. There was never any hint of more. Then, one night in August, a bottle of bourbon and a game of truth or dare blurred the lines I thought were solid. The conversation turned intimate, and the dares followed. What started with a kiss escalated into something I did not want. I remember saying "no," many times, my hands holding tightly to my clothes as a boundary. I was told "no means yes." In my intoxicated state, my resistance was overcome. I held onto one clear thought: no penetration. That line, at least, was not crossed. In the days that followed, I did everything I was supposed to do. I reached for every lifeline. I took the emergency pill. I made the calls to 1800RESPECT and SARC, navigating support systems in a language that isn't my own. I am awaiting medical screenings. I devoured Chanel Miller's "Know My Name," finding solace in a story that mirrored my own confusion. I talked to AI, tirelessly analyzing every emotion, trying to logic my way out of this pain. I found the courage to call a friend and speak the words aloud, and her belief in me was a anchor. And yet, a persistent voice still circles in the quiet moments: Did I overreact? Was it really that bad? He was nice once. This doubt is a ghost, and it haunts me alongside the heavy grip of my history with depression, which makes everything feel so much heavier. I have made a decision that brings both a sense of relief and a profound sadness. I will likely make a report, but I do not think I will request a full investigation. I have come to the quiet, painful understanding of how difficult it is to prove a violation without concrete evidence, of how the system often fails to deliver justice. My heart breaks for all my sisters who have stood in this same place, who have chosen to prioritize their own survival over a fight they know they cannot win. So, for now, I am choosing to fight for myself instead of against him. My act of rebellion is not in a courtroom; it is in my own healing. It is in believing myself when the world teaches me to doubt. It is in acknowledging that even without legal justice, what happened to me was real, it was wrong, and my pain is valid. I am choosing to care for the person who matters most in this story: me.

We sat next to each other in class. We became friends immediately. But that’s typical your Freshman year of college. One day, these speakers came in to talk about sexual assault on campus. You had your headphones in and were watching a movie. I tapped on your arm and said it was important and you should pay attention. You told me you didn’t need to because it would never effect you. Would you still say that now? I hope it was a good movie. I hope it was so good that you couldn’t have possibly taken a second to learn about consent. I sometimes wonder if anything would have been different with your movie off and your attention on the speakers. Would I still have been raped? These are the the questions that I desperately try to push out of my brain because the answer truly doesn’t matter. What’s done is done and I pay the consequences of your actions. How was your fucking movie? Is it like the sad movie that replays in my brain every day? That movie that’s in black and white? You know the one where you assault me and it takes me months to really find out what you did to my incapacitated body? And I’ll still never truly know. That’s what you can live with because I don’t think I even want to know how far it went. I already saw the bruises on my inner thighs and arms. Did you know that in the ER they re-enacted how I may have gotten those bruises? That image doesn’t leave my head. I’m not sure where I’m going with this. Is it a poem? A letter? Or just somewhere in my notes to vent? Will anyone hear me? I feel like Hobo Johnson when I sit down and try to write about my pain, hurt, disgust, anger, and regret. Again, will anyone hear me? Regret that I ever became your friend. But how was a Freshman girl from a small town in the middle of nowhere suppose to know how to figure of who stranger danger is versus your friend. Because maybe there were some red flags that I missed, but maybe it’s really because I’m nothing like you. I don’t see people and think about the horrible things I can do to them. How could you hurt me like that when you knew how kind my soul was. I’m sure that just made it easier in your mind. Every part of me… the essence of me… made you do something disgusting to me. That’s still not my fault. It’s not my fault that I lost weight and became “more attractive”. It’s not my fault that I am a proud pansexual woman and that became a sick fantasy for you. It’s not my fault that I let you in and you chose to hurt me. It’s not my fault that you became obsessed and possessive. I just wish I never became your friend. When I said to you, “We can’t be friends anymore, I think you raped me”, did you think I’d get over it? Did you think it would all go away? I wish I could get over it and it could all go away. Every second of every day I wish that. If you haven’t figured it out yet, we will never be friends again. I may see you again one day… in a courtroom, but that is it. I hate you. I don’t hate myself anymore. I am healing. I am learning. I am growing. It’s like I never knew who I was until now. And I love who I am. But boy do I hate you. You took away my schooling during my Senior year. I was too afraid to go to my own damn classes because you needed to get off or something I guess. Those are years of my life that I’ll never get back. I could sit there and tell you my story step by step, but that will all come out in court. I’m also tired of repeating it. It’s written down in a journal already. But that’s THE story, not my story. My story started when I was born, but there was a new chapter that began the day I woke up and started to realize what had happened to me. I stood up and I fought like hell. I still fight like hell. I will have my day in court. I will make sure you need to think about this more. Title 9 wanted to protect the school. Not me or you. But I want to protect myself and every other woman you come or may come into contact with. To do that I need to keep talking and keep sharing my story… and THE story. I was 21. I was allowed to drink at that tailgate. You were not allowed to take advantage of my incapacitated body at your fraternity. Fraternity at University. Shame on you for taking advantage of your “best friend” in such a disgusting way. Shame on you for taking advantage of our friendship. Shame on you. Shame on you. Shame on you.

I was about 5/6 the first time it happened. I had no idea what was going on I just knew I felt weird.. deep in my stomach.. that gut wrenching feeling I would get before my parents would line us up for swats. It started with him being a little touchy and "accidently" walking in on me while I was showering/ changing then he got more and more handsy until finally he trapped me in the basement one day. He managed to pin me on the ground and lifted up my dress; before I knew it he had ripped my underwear and was touching me. It felt like an eternity had passed as I laid there motionless and crying, but a few minutes later he kissed my cheek, told me he was going to think about this later and that this was our little secret game as he helped me up; he was turned on with the biggest smile on his face. A few days later I was doing the laundry in the basement, bent over to pick up the clothes and drop them in the washer. He took this as a good opportunity to play "our secret game"; before I could do anything, I was pinned against the washer, he ripped my shorts and underwear down and next thing I knew he was fully inside me this time. I screamed out in pain as he jammed into me repeatedly so he covered my mouth.. I was so scared and confused. I felt the blood dripping down my legs and I was in so much pain I felt like I was going to be sick. Finally, after a few minutes it was over, and he let me go. I bent down to pull my shorts and underwear back up when I saw the blood on my legs. So many thoughts ran through my head, and I opened my mouth to say something, but I couldn't bring myself to make a sound. He used one of the towels I was about to wash to clean the blood off of himself then tossed it at me for my legs. He raised his hand to wipe the tears from my cheek and I flinched. "What's wrong? You don't like our little game?" I was so sore for a few days; hardly able to sit or walk. I struggled to get the blood stains out of my clothes. It felt like I was dreaming.. that I was going to wake up from this bullcrap nightmare at any moment, but I never did. The soreness I felt after he was done with me went away with time, but I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact this was happening. Is this normal? Do other brother's and sister's do this? This continued for years; he would trap me in any places he could, and it felt like it took longer and longer each time. I decided at the age of 9/10 I had had enough and tried to tell my mother what my brother was doing to me. As bad of a mother as she was I thought she would still protect me when it came down to it, but I was soooo very wrong.. after all he was her favorite. The words she said to me will be forever engraved in my brain, "You can either let this ruin his life or you can move on. This doesn't seem like an issue you should let ruin your brother’s life." From that moment on I felt like it was my fault he was doing this so I kept my mouth shut in fear that no one else would believe me or that people would blame me if they did. He used this to his advantage and would play the game any chance he could even blackmailing me "I won't tell mom if you let me.." or he would take things from me like my homework and withhold them until I "played" and even then he would make me do extra things before he'd give it back. He pinned me down to the dining room table, hand gripping a chunk of my hair tight enough he pulled some out, covered my mouth so I couldn't scream for help and went so hard he bruised my hips.. I couldn't sit/ bend my body for a few days after that. Everywhere in that house was full of reminders that my body wasn't mine. It wasn't just forcing me to have sex either, he would force me to give him blow jobs/ hand jobs and randomly pin me against things and grope me just to prove he could any time he wanted. If my parents weren't home and we were watching something that had a sex scene in it (or if it wasn't on already he would put something on) he would openly touch himself to it in front of me.. it truly was a game for him. I would sit on the shower floor for hours with the water as hot as it would go, scrubbing my skin raw, but I never felt clean enough. No matter what I did or how hard I tried I couldn't wash him off of me.. I became so numb to it because it was happening at least weekly, but sometimes daily that I thought that was all I was good for was my body and what people could do to it. After a while I had opened up to my first girlfriend about it my freshman year of high school and started to feel like maybe I wasn't at fault. I never told anyone the full extent of what he had done and been doing to me because I felt dirty and ashamed for letting it happen to me. Talking about it, even just a little bit gave me some comfort though; no one could truly understand how I felt because they hadn't gone through it themselves, but them just listening and making me feel heard was comforting. Somehow it got out at school and CPS was called again (they had previously been called for physical abuse I endured from my parents; mostly my mother and they didn’t even bother to investigate when she gave me a black eye) along with my mother to the school. I thought it was weird, but made my way down.. when I rounded the corner, I could hear her voice, and I froze in my tracks. There's that feeling again.. Sure enough, when I walked through the front office doors I could see a group of people in the conference room; my principle, my counselor, the school phycologist I had been seeing for "sessions" like a therapist (although I never told her about this because she told my mother EVERYTHING) two CPS workers and my mother. As my gaze met with my mother’s I began to feel like my stomach was going to fall out of my butt at any moment and she just stared at me with those soulless eyes she always looked at me with. Of course, she remembered we were at the school, plastered on a big smile on and greeted me like I was her precious baby who she missed so much. "Do you know why we've called you down here?" I just sat there silently with tears rolling down my cheeks while the adults talked like I wasn't there. When it finally came out "what exactly did you say your brother has been doing to you?" all I could do was look at my mother, crying and saying, "I didn't say anything I promise!" I never said the rumors weren't true or that he never did anything I only ever said "I didn't say anything" and yet no one noticed they just saw a child crying hysterically, listened to my mother and blew it off that I was being dramatic and looking for attention. Somehow my father never found out about any of this and there was no further investigation, no examinations and no reports.. this was the SECOND time CPS failed me. He continued to do this to me until I got kicked out at 18 (or as my mother likes to say that I ran away) because instead of going back when she told me I could I stayed out. The first time I chose to have sex at the age of 16 I not only did it with someone I didn't love, but I had to get high to do it. When I got home, I sat on the floor of the shower, with it as hot as it would go and just sobbed while the water ran over my back. I thought it would be different if I wanted to do it, that I would like it, and it would make me feel better, but I hated it and mentally I couldn’t take it. I was self-harming in more ways than one and made several attempts on my life.. but any time I was with someone, or someone flirted with me I threw my body at them because I thought that's all I was good for and all anyone truly wanted. I was high most of the time, especially when I had sex, and I really didn’t care what happened to me anymore. Then I met my husband when I was 18.. the wonderful man that he is; we’ve been together 15 years, married for going on two and he’s healing something he didn’t break and makes me feel safe. There's a fire that burns within me that is fueled by so much anger.. I will forever be changed by what my brother did to me and for the lack of protection from someone who should have protected me, but chose to protect my abuser instead. I’ve spent years battling my own mind trying to stay here in spite of them; I still struggle with my self- harming in pretty much all the ways I used to along with other attempts on my life and constantly wanting to end it/ feeling like my boys deserve better than me. This is the first time I've ever fully told anyone about what he did.. not even my husband knows the full story because I didn't want to burden him with the weight of my pain. This pain has been weighing on my soul all my life and I just can't take it anymore; I'm drowning in it. I've blamed myself for so long and I feel so alone.. I feel like I'm damaged goods, like I'm broken. So, I've come here as a 30 something year old, with the encouragement and support of my therapist and my amazing husband to tell my story.. grammatical/ spelling errors and all. I wish to break the generational trauma for my son, so he never has to heal from his childhood and to heal from what’s left me broken; My boys deserve the best version of me. Even though it will probably never be seen by anyone but me, this is me taking back my power from him.. weather it ruins his life or not because he deserves to lay in the bed he made. I may never get justice for his actions and I'm not even really sure what that would look like for me, but I'm a survivor none the less. Thankfully I'm learning day by day that what he did to me wasn't my fault it was his (partly my mother’s for letting it continue) and that I deserved so much better. I didn't deserve any of this. I deserved a mother that believed me, loved me and protected me when I needed it. I deserve to heal, be loved and feel happiness. Most of all I deserved to be able to keep my innocence..

For years I questioned what I was doing wrong and how someone who loved me could be so comfortable hurting me. But they didn’t hit me so I never looked at it as DV or myself as a victim. Through different type of relationships, it was a revolving door, but they didn’t hit me so I wasn’t a victim. Until my last relationship. In 3 1/2 years, he put his hands on me once, but if I had just let him leave, he wouldn’t have done it. For the longest time, he was planting it into my head that I was the issue. The good times were really good so I overlooked the bad cause I loved him more than I loved myself in that moment. The way he loved my kids (who were not his) also kept me around for a lot longer than I should have. I planned a life with him in my head cause he was helping raise kids that weren’t his so he must be an amazing man to step up, until he started lacking. Then I realizing me being unhappy with him, was hurting my kids more than I knew. He made me believe that I was so “mentally unstable” no one would ever love me & that being 6ft down in a grave was the only way I was going to be able to get away from him. Then I left & I was so proud of myself. I started doing intensive therapy & working on myself & then the thoughts he planted in my head came back. “No one could ever love you the way I do because I was there for you in your lowest” & I broke the no contact & let him back in. Things were good at first, and then he would shove the past in my face & tell me how much he hated me & the verbal & mental abuse cycle began again. But this time, I knew better. I found out about mental & physical abuse, I did research, I was in groups & I was learning to love myself again. I had boundaries for the first time in a long time. And then I found out about the cheating a year prior while he was living at my house & the summer of the downward spiral had begun. I blocked him again & was so depressed, I began drowning it with alcohol. I felt my heart just break as this man had spent so much time accusing me of cheating while I was working to support my kids, just for him to turn around & do it to me. I almost lost everything & it took me losing 1 of my jobs to finally get back on track. I stopped drinking for a while, I found a better job, I spent more time with my kids & began re-evaluating what made me happy in life. I re-discovered my healthy boundaries, I was working more, I was laughing again & generally meaning it. I started talking to my friends about my feelings & where I was in life. For a year, things were going better (there’s always going to be the ups & downs but it was better). And then the 1 year of me blocking had come up & I caved & unblocked him on his birthday. At first it was to be petty, and then I found out he was seeing someone. I played it like I didn’t know anything, we hung out a few times & then the old him came out again but this time, I was in a better place & I knew what to accept & what to correct. I finally seen him being in my life was not good for me mentally & as much as I miss the him he pretended to be when we first met, I am learning to mourn the person who never existed. I don’t want to call him for every little thing anymore (good or bad). He doesn’t get access to me or my kids life anymore & I love the strong, independent female I am becoming. I’m so proud of the scars I’m healing & acknowledging that I’m human & I am going to have weak days that I might want to message him & I’m taking it 1 day at a time. Going from planning a future & a life with someone you thought was them to mourning someone who never actually existed is something most people will never understand (& I hope they never have too). Some days are easier than others & it’s ok to get lost as long as you find your way back to the track. I am strong because I have no other choice but I’m learning it’s ok to have weak days & I don’t always have to be so strong. Cry, scream, punching a pillow is healthy ways to let all of that out. I’m not perfect & I don’t have to be but I will be there for others going through this & let them know they’re not alone, it’s not their fault & they are very so much loved

When I was 7 or 8 my cousin knew I wanted a phone so he allowed me to use his if I said yes to him to touch my private parts but I never understand what he was doing so I said yes but sometimes I would say no to him but he never listened. I only realized what he did to me when I was older and now I want to know if it is sexual assault and is ut my fault

I just recently read an NDA that Organization put my brother under. It is horrible and so long, thorough, specific…very much intended to be intimidating and silencing! Thanks to Trey’s Law, I now know what my brother signed and it’s atrocious that Organization the “ministry” specifically demanded and wanted the NDA (not other involved parties/defendants). It’s also obscene that his lawyer let him sign this. The system is broken. Victims don’t deserve this after everything else they’ve been through!

As I write this story to you, please note that this sexual harassment case is still in progress. It began in December of 2022 when I worked as a contractor for a company named Contractor. I do IT work for Company. The first week I was there, I was touched sexually by a coworker named Name. I froze and I didn't know what to do, Name positioned his hand onto my waist and began to slide his hand upward, fondling my breast and, It made me feel violated, it made me feel disgusted. I informed my recruiter Recruiter about what had happened that day. I typed him and email and of course he informed me that he believed me and that Contractor did not tolerate sexual harassment. They told me that they would "talk" with this co-worker. A few months went by but, Name was still making sexual comments to me, and now in September of this year, he began to blow me kisses and winked at me two times. I finally informed a female coworker privately about what was going on and she informed me that this male coworker has gotten away with sexual harassment many times now. I am the third person who has come to HR and has reported what has gone on. My female coworker informed me that she had been sexually abused since July 2022 and no action has still been taken. That is when I decided to take matters into my own hands, I decided to contact a sexual harassment attorney and has recently filed a case with EEOC for sexual harassment and discrimination. When I go to work now, I instantly feel nauseous and full of anxiety. I have decided to contact a psychologists to help me cope with the high anxiety and not being able to sleep at night. You might be asking yourself, "Why didn't you just leave?" well, because It was a job and I have bills to pay. I asked myself the same question many times. Luckily my contract will be with Contractor in December of 2023. It was not myself, who went to HR the second time. It was my female coworker who sent an email with me and she had a conversation about what was going on between Name and I in the workplace. That Name was still sexually harassing me, blowing kisses at me and winking at me, along with other sexual comments. There was one time I was in my cubicle and I was organizing it before going home and Name came up to me and asked me what I was doing. I told him that I was organizing my cubicle, I didn't want seem like a slob and he replied with "Yes but, you would be a cute slob." He would intentionally come over to my cubicle and place each of his hands on each side of the cubical and ask me what I was doing. He would intentionally make me feel uncomfortable and afraid. Luckily I have had enough sick leave saved up, so I have taken sick leave for myself periodically. Once my female coworker reached out to the HR department of both Company, both HR departments tried to call me and email me multiple times. I refused to answer them because I knew in the back of my mind, they weren't on my side. They didn't believe my story about Name the first time so, what would make them believe me the second time? On October 2, 2023, Person of Companycalled me and asked me "Well, what do you think we should do about Name?" and I said out of pure honesty. "Fire him, he needs to be held accountable." and Person laughed at me on the phone, and he said to me "Okay, well. We will talk to Name." and I knew right then and there, they didn't believe me. What they didn't know, is that I had already typed up everything for documentation and was one step ahead of HR because I knew, they weren't going to take me seriously once again so, that is when I took action to contact a sexual harassment attorney. Ever since I have taken this action, HR of both Contractor and, Company have been trying to email me and call me to try and negociant. They didn't believe me two times now, and they laughed at me when I was telling them what should be done about Name. This experience for me, has been frightening and very emotional. I have cried a lot, I haven't slept and for almost a year I have not told my family about the ongoing sexual harassment. I have reminded myself that I am strong and that I will get through this, and that there are resources out there to help me. To this current day, I am still waiting to hear back from the EECO, and hopefully hold Contractor accountable for Name and what he has done to multiple women. I am sharing this story because I need other victims out there to know, YOU! have a voice and you ARE! capable of taking back your self dignity. I took this situation into my own hands because I know, that I am not helpless and that I am able to speak up and not tolerate sexual harassment in the workplace. You deserve respect, you deserve to take back your dignity and you deserve to be heard. Stand up, for what is right and what you believe in. I didn't want to take action but I am thankful that I gathered up enough courage to reach out and take back my self respect for myself and to prove to these two companies that I am NOT! a "play toy" I am a young woman who deserves to be treated with respect. I am not sure if I have touched anyone emotionally by revealing my true story to you. Sexual harassment in the workplace can feel very intimidating and that you feel you won't be believed but sometimes, you need to step up and take action for yourself, and to speak out and share your story so that others don't fall victim to sexual harassment in the workplace like I did and my female coworker. You have a voice and there are resources and that is what men forget. Ladies, we more capable and powerful than what men take us for and it is time we take back our self-respect. Thank you, for taking the time to read my story. A Survivor Of Sexual Harassment In The Workplace - Survivor

I am a victim of sex trafficking. I was abused for 7 years of my life. I understood my trafficker to be my boyfriend and then my husband. I lost all memory of what was happening to me for 8 years. By day I was a mental health professional and by night, I was drugged and sold to multiple men when I was supposed to be sleeping. This is my story. I met my ex on date. It wasn’t the first time we had met, we had gone to the same high school, he was a year ahead of me and we had mutual friends. At 15/16 years old, I had a crush on him and told one of my best friends at the time who was a friend to him. She went to his house one day and took a picture of him flipping her off with his middle finger and then gave it to me. He had no idea who the picture was for but knew it was for someone who liked him. At that point, it would have made sense if I had taken that as a red flag; however I was a young teenager who had a history of neglect and trauma, so any type of attention was welcomed. Even if it wasn’t directed specifically at me. A little over 20 years later, we were friends on Facebook and I went for it. I had just gotten out of an unhealthy relationship about 4 months prior and was not looking for another relationship but thought why not go out and see what it would be like to have a few drinks with him and talk. Some months prior to me reaching out over Facebook, he had made a comment on one of my pictures, stating I looked hot or something to that effect. I initially ignored it but over time thought about it again and decided why not. A very close friend of mine (my foster sister) had taken some classes with him in high school and told me that he was a really nice guy and if I wasn’t looking for anything serious I could hurt him. So I walked into the restaurant/bar we were to meet at thinking I needed to be open to see where this could go. It went well, we talked, laughed and seemed to have a great time, at least I did. There was a one off, when I mentioned his comment on my photo he stated he didn’t remember. I thought that odd but I excused it, a habit I had with pretty much everyone all my life. I always saw people as I saw myself and when I tried to understand a behavior I would excuse it. At any rate, we went on several dates. I wasn't sure if he liked me, if he was into dating someone from another race (I am biracial and he is white). It seemed odd, matter of fact I spoke to several people about it not sure what to make of it. He was quiet on the dates, I did most of the talking, he did share at times but not as much. I was also finishing up my Masters in Counseling, working full time and taking care of my two daughters, one in college and the other in high school. I was busy, I was running at the time, just enjoying life, working full time and feeling pretty confident in myself and how my life was going. Looking forward towards my future, knowing that once I got my Masters it would be a game changer in regards to a solid career path and financially, our lives would be better. I had so much going for me. So on our 5th date I just decided to ask him if he liked me. He said he did and I asked why he hadn't kissed me yet. By the end of the date he kissed me and I was actually surprised how much I was liking him and wanted to see where this would go. He had talked about how he always wanted to go to see the concert, and how noone in his circle would ever go with him. I loved shows and theater and had already been, so for a kind of Christmas gift, I bought us tickets to see The concert on date. We also decided that we would be sexually intimate that night. The one thing I remember him saying to me before we had sex was "I'm not who I was in high school", I got it, at least I thought I did. None of us were exactly the same, right? We were both in our early 40s and life changes us, but I always thought the core of who you are does not always change and he had never mentioned to me any horrific life events within his 20s and 30s that would change his core. By date, he asked me to be his girlfriend at one of his friend's home at a New Year's Eve party. I drank a lot that night and smoked some weed, so I was pretty intoxicated, not a regular thing for me, never had been. I could count on one hand how many times I had gotten inebriated. I never liked it, I don't like to be out of control of myself, but I felt safe with him and believed he would take care of me. I of course said yes. I remember while at the party he introduced me to a man, a leader of a Hell's Angels group who was married to one of my ex's best friend's sister. The Hells Angels guy seemed nice enough, but I wouldn't understand what was really going on until 8 years later. He was soliciting me to this guy. Having this man check me out to see if he felt I would be adequate to prostitute out. I believe the sex trafficking began not long after that. When I would stay at "my boyfriend's" house a few nights a week. I have bits of memory from that time. What I do know is that after I fell asleep, my ex would drug me with heroin (I believe - at least some form of opiates) which would leave me incapacitated enough where I could not fight anyone off of me and I wouldn't remember. My subconscious took over and blocked it all out. Though there were times that I knew if that makes sense. But as soon as he would say something or I would say something, it would be forgotten/blocked out within minutes and I had lost time, without even knowing it. By the summer of 2015, he got me to move in with him temporarily, my youngest daughter went to go live with her father for a month and my oldest stayed at my apartment and took care of our cats. I had a fun summer being love bombed. Looking back, I am aware of at least one time where he trafficked me during the day down at city in Massachusetts. We went down there to kayak on the bay and spend the day together; however I now remember what happened after we got done kayaking and going out for lunch. I cannot remember the ride home that day. More lost time. He pushed me to move in with him after that summer. I didn't want to because I hadn't lived with anyone in 13 years and I wasn't sure if I really wanted to live with someone again and my youngest daughter was just about to go into her senior year in high school. I wanted to make sure she had a good year and kept pushing back on him, but he was persistent and told me it would be a win win with us living together, helping each other out and I could pay down my debt. So after being relentlessly pursued, which felt good, I agreed. My daughters were not happy but I promised my youngest daughter I would drive her to school every day and pick her up so she could have her senior year. We moved in, then his son who was a year older than my youngest, moved in after that and we all lived together under one roof. However, the toxicity started, my ex did not get along with my youngest and they would fight a lot. During this time, the whole time, he was drugging us and selling us to men. We didn't remember. My girls still don't remember to this day and I have not nor will I tell them. It needs to be at their time. The guilt consumes to this day. I can't remember how often it was at that time but I do know that it happened enough and even on our vacations or get away trips that I paid for. We (just the two of us) would go away on weekend trips, once a month to different areas in Massachusetts or New Hampshire. I would pay for these trips and plan them out. He did nothing but come along and solicit me to men, drug me at night and allow them to rape me. My daughters and I would always notice men staring at us whenever we went out around home and for me whenever I went out with him. I got to a point where I would just ignore it because it felt uncomfortable but I couldn't understand it. My youngest daughter hated it and I would just tell her to ignore it, not realizing what was really happening. During this time he had been laid off several times and would just sit around the house while I worked, at one point 3 jobs to keep my head above water on my debt and just try to pay as many bills for the house as possible. I began to realize that he never opened his mail, he didn't pay bills on time and never seemed to have money. All of a sudden the way I had lived was now changing because I couldn't keep up and he wasn't helping. I could never save money, never paid anything off, whenever I had money it immediately went out to pay some type of bill. I became angry and wanted to leave but I was stuck because I had no money to leave. Now looking back and being aware of what happened, he had plenty of money, he was selling us at night and making a lot of money. When I moved in I had two cats, Name A and Name B. Name A was 15 at the time I believe, we loved her and she loved us but not him. Name B was about 2 or 3 at the time, my ex had a cat named Name C who was a year younger than Name B. I worked hard to make sure that they got along well and they did. Those two were inseparable. My ex also had a small dog named Name D who was sweet but peed in the house. I worked hard to stop that and get him on a schedule. The first year we lived there, I was able to get my oldest daughter a puppy, Puppy. She always wanted one and was overjoyed to have him. He was a fabulous dog. When Puppy was about a year old, I got my first dog, Name E. She was about 4 months when I rescued her from the shelter. I was so excited. She had some resource guarding issues with food but I worked on that and she became the sweetest girl. Just to back track, after we moved in Name A disappeared for 2 weeks, we had no idea where she was or what happened. She was not an outdoor cat and never ran away before but I chalked it up to being in a whole new environment, so after looking everywhere for 2 weeks, we were giving up and working on accepting she was gone, then one day my ex "found" her outback of the house and we were thrilled. She was weak, frail, skin and bones but we were thrilled. Loved her up and fed her. Then a week later she disappeared again for about 4-5 days. I couldn't understand why she kept leaving. Within a month or two, the girls and I were putting her down because she was urinating all over the house and I couldn't understand it. She never did that. I was told by the vet that she was in kidney failure and I couldn't understand what happened because she was a healthy cat prior to us moving in. She was so unhappy there as well. My ex never liked her because she never liked him. It was a devastating day for my daughters and I. I ended up having to put Name E down two years after I got her because she became aggressive and it got worse and worse. I brought her to a behavioral specialist, put her on medication, trainers, vets and nothing worked. I could never understand why but looking back I now know. Then Name B got sick and I had to put him down a year after Name E, for a kidney tumor. My ex asked if Name C could catch what Name B had and I reminded him it was a tumor and you can't catch cancer. Name C disappeared a month later. I was devestated, 4 animals within a 4 year span. We had Puppy and Name D left. Prior to Name E, Name B and Name C dying, my daughters moved out. My oldest went into the Air Force and my youngest moved to Florida with her father. I was left with my ex and his son in the home. We kept Puppy for my daughter while she went away to training. I ended up getting another puppy about 3 months after Name E died because I was devastated. Her name was Puppy and she was the silliest puppy. She gave me so much joy. I share all this because my animals were part of his sex trafficking, he sold them as well. I believe he had the dogs fight each other and he would drug them and allow men to sexually assault them. I know this because when I watched my foster sister's dog, he allowed someone to sexually assault her. My foster sister immediately brought her dog to the vets and was told that her dog had been sexually assaulted. Both Puppy and Puppy had similar symptoms. However, I never knew what the vet said because by that time, I had isolated myself so much, I barely spoke to my family and friends. He was systematically getting everyone out of my life and it worked. Finally in 2020, I was done. I wanted to leave and was so unhappy. I always thought it was because he hardly worked, if he did he would get fired and I held everything down and wanted different and would tell him all the time. However looking back I know that did impact me but I was being raped at night, I was exhausted, I would wake up in pain not understanding why. I would at times take Puppy and go sleep in another room and I slept wonderfully. I would wake up refreshed and decided that my ex's snoring and the bed were to blame. But it wasn't why. Puppy would wake me up if he heard something outside the bedroom door. My ex's plan could only work if I was sleeping at night. If I consciously knew what he was doing then I would go to the police. So when he did allow men to rape me during the day at any time he would drug my food. There is only one time I remember him sticking me with a needle, on the beach at City in ME on a vacation we went on for three years in a row. I have memory of being raped by 5 different men. I believe three of them paid my ex $500 each. The other two were two men we were on vacation with. I can remember watching them walk towards my ex and I and thinking "no, not them, I thought they respected me" - they gang raped me because they could not afford the amount my ex wanted on their own so they pooled their money. I can think back and remember them on my body but I felt nothing, my body was separate by that point. I still don't remember how we got back to the campground we were staying at. Another time lost. By 2020, I was working for a group practice and reached out to the owner to ask for an advance in pay so I could leave. By this time, my youngest daughter had returned from Florida and moved back in with us, but I wanted us out of there. Again not knowing exactly what was really going on but knowing he wasn't following through and I was tired of having nothing and living a life that wasn't mine. So by October 2020, we moved out. I was so happy; however he sucked me back in by making all these promises of selling the house and moving to another town. I bought it and before I knew it, I was asking if he wanted to get married. He had been asking me for years and I always said no. Part of me asking was to ensure I would get something from the house that I invested thousands of dollars in but another part was being a part of his family. They all played me, he knew I was a helper, that is how I got my self worth, so he would have his son ask me for help, his daughter ask me for help, his brothers, his mother. They were all in on it. They were all making money off of me at this point. Once we got married, the trafficking escalated and his abuse and threats did as well. It was all done while I was drugged and at night at this point. There were 'rape the slave' parties, gang rapes, beastiality. It was a house of horror. I never remembered but it got to a point where I had a lot of pain, fatigue, sickness that I could not explain. I initially thought I had lyme disease but I didn't. I was being drugged, beaten, raped and at times going through withdrawals. I never remembered a thing but at times it seems I did.

I don’t even remember when it was. All I know if I was in Elementary maybe. It was my brother who was 2 years older. He had vhs porn! How? Idk when I sit and think about it I tend to find something to make me busy so I won’t revisit it. I ended up in our parents bed and I had body fluid on my back. I was exposed to this and I became hyper sexual as an adult. I just found out about COCSA as a 40 year old woman… I lived in so much shame still to this day. I’ve confronted my older brother he said “we were just kids” he seemed regretful but our parents don’t know and they are just oblivious. The older I get the more it weighs on my soul! Every part of my life has been altered or effected because of this act/s done to me. I wish I told my parents I wrote a letter today and thinking of mailing it. I have been so hard on myself and not trusting of myself for my entire life. My advice as a grown woman. Please use your voice… I am a survivor of domestic abuse, physical abuse, sexual abuse, divorce, emotional and esteem issues and dealing with an autoimmune disease now. I am learning about myself as a 40 year old woman where I hid all of my baggage for the last 30 years. Don’t suffer in silence.

I take the last line, drink that last sip of beer from the dented can. I feel another piece of my consciousness float away. It doesn't matter what has just come before though. I feel a sudden grip on my outer leg, it wakes me. I start to blink, try to get rid of my weary vision. I pull my body away from this grip, he pulls back harder. I start to use my voice... repeating the classic "no" "stop". my already limp body starts to struggle; pushing, elbowing and scratching. My wrists are met with yet another, tighter, grip. I feel his digging in, between my tendons. he pushes his weight inside and upon me. the consistent "no" coming from my mouth is answered with a soft "shhh" like an attentive father to a crying baby. After five or so minutes it is as if he can hear me; "should I stop" he says. "please stop, stop" "ahh, a little more" he responds. He goes harder. Maybe my voice is bothering or worrying him. He jams his hand deep into my mouth, clawing at the back of my throat. I start to splutter and search for air, he pulls out his hands and places his grip around my mouth and jaw and vigorously shakes my head around. "are you mine" "are you mine" he asks me with a low volumed rage, while his body still beats fiercely into mine. I start to wonder how these same hands that must have once combed through his young daughters hair were the same ones ragging and tearing at mine. He finally takes a break, the mass of his legs still crushing on top of mine. While I think he's sleeping I throw off his arm that is wrapped around me. Not yet "heyy" he says as he hurls it back around me tighter. As if I am his sulking lover upset by his late arrival home from a night of drinking. In those minutes, while I can only stare into my surroundings, I start to think of this setting being my new life. I will physically remain like this, a worn out body to be misused and wounded by this creature forever. Until I am so damaged that my body and my mind become numb and irreparable. He's awake and ready for round 2, I still have fragments of fight left. He pulls my legs apart as I use all of my strength trying to keep them together. he is completely on top of me , his sweat smothering my skin. His face above mine but his gaze is somewhere; anywhere except into my eyes. he goes again, each thrust more painful than the last. His heavy painted body sagging over me again and again. He pauses again. The sweat drips from his hair down the side of his face over his pulsing veins. I look at his eyes, hooded and bloodshot with an emptiness I have never seen before. I have seen spite from people who didn't like me, but I have never before felt that someone wanted to destroy me like this. I have heard this man say I was pretty before, but I know in this moment that his pleasure comes from damaging me. Round three. He goes again, this time he squeezes my neck. He starts to shake me, his grip still firm, my weak body stops its fighting. I start to hear an echoey voice of my mother, as if she is here but just not in my sights. I start to see an image of a friend of mine, as if he is standing on a balcony looking down at me with either pity or disgust but I don’t have the capacity to tell. I gasp for air in away I have never felt before. Some time has passed , I don’t know how long. Some ten seconds I stare, I see the door half open to a room where there are several hanging patterned shirts. I look at the floor and see a pair of crumpled jeans, I don’t yet realise they are mine. I start to hear a faint voice, saying my name. It reminds me of a time in hospital, awaking from anaesthetic to a doctors voice. I start to put the pieces together and remember where I am. He looks at me. “You scared me” he says, as if he posits some kind of care. Although I am breathing again, I am just a small mass of flesh, slowly decomposing into the sheets under his heavy body. Eventually I notice him sleeping, this time deeply. I get up quietly and pick up my clothes, feeling my jeans scrape across my bruised hips. I pass by the mirror in the corner of the room, I almost cannot recognise the reflection that is there. My hair sticks out, matted and messy. I pat it down and try to comb my fingers through. I feel my face is dirty, it is rough and red where his hands have corroded. I look over at the disheveled bed, the sweaty sleeping body upon it. I notice a slight grin on his face as he continues sleeping soundly. I look at my own eyes, smeared outlines of mascara, I can tell something in there is missing in this moment. I go to the door, open it with my shaking hand and o down to the street, and I hope that no one notices my hair.

I was raped by one of the heads of location in city, state. Don't go here.

I grew up thinking that my body was not my own. I experienced child sexual assault and rape all before the age of 14 and that shaped how I viewed my body and the world around me. It took years, almost a decade, before I would seek therapy and try to start my healing journey. I felt so disgusting in my own body and it made it hard for me to have romantic relationships. Therapy has really been helpful and sometimes I still feel that discomfort in my body but I am learning everyday that what happened to me is not my fault. I also have grown to learn that there are bad people out here and that there is nothing that I did to deserve what happened to me. Although my abuser is free to roam the world as if he didn't harm me and my rapist is free to live his life as if he didn't rape me -- I find peace in knowing that I am healing despite what they did to me.

I wrote this poem today after hearing of guilty verdict in current court case with taxi drive and two separate victims. Title: Me Too Taxi Driver I too have been where you two have been. I too went out with friends. I too had one too many. I too got in the taxi. I too expected safety. I too was raped. Followed in through my front door by a taxi driver who wanted more than the fare that I had paid him. I too reported my assault. I too made my statement. Then our stories diverge. My case went nowhere. My trauma went inwards. My anger turned septic. My shame imploded. My mother does not know. My case went absolutely nowhere. Insufficient evidence and no identifiable suspect minimised my experience. So I thank you for standing strong, for speaking up, for getting some of the justice that I have craved. My taxi driver will never hear the judgement of a jury, and probably never even felt guilt. But he raped me, and in the court of my mind, the jury is unanimous, he is guilty, guilty, guilty.